Chapter 558 Whispers and Kisses on the Couch
Yvette stared in bewilderment at the car blocking her path, recognizing the familiar license plate immediately. It was definitely Albert.
She watched as he emerged from the vehicle, impeccably dressed in an expensive tailored suit, his posture straight and movements fluid with practiced elegance. Albert strode directly to her car, pulled open the door, and slid inside.
His sudden proximity caught Yvette off guard, and she instinctively shifted toward the window to make room. Albert settled beside her, leaning back against the seat as he turned to study her face, his eyes holding a hazy, intoxicated gleam. His body unconsciously tilted toward hers.
Only then did Yvette catch the faint scent of alcohol on him. Albert chuckled softly and murmured her name, the sound roughened by drink and carrying a low, gravelly quality that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Meeting his gaze, Yvette noticed how the alcohol had flushed his usually sharp eyes with a warm red tint, giving him an appealingly disheveled appearance.
"You're drunk?" she asked.
"Had quite a bit," he admitted, each word slightly slurred, a far cry from his usual crisp decisiveness.
Yvette pressed her lips together, thinking how his steady gait moments ago had betrayed no sign of intoxication.
"That was dangerous just now," she said quietly. "What if our driver couldn't brake in time? Someone could have been hurt."
The driver in front quickly interjected, "Mrs. Valdemar, I would never fail to stop in time. The driver maintained a safe distance."
Yvette felt a wave of exasperation, knowing the driver was clearly intimidated by Albert's authority. Human reflexes didn't lie—the man had nearly cursed moments earlier.
Albert's lips curved in a lazy smile as he reached for her hand, capturing it in his warm grip while his thumb traced gentle circles across her slightly damp palm. "I'll have a word with him later about reckless driving."
"Who?" Yvette asked, confused.
"Vincent," Albert replied with shameless nonchalance. "He was driving."
Yvette fell silent at his audacity.
"Drive," Albert commanded.
"Yes, Mr. Valdemar," the driver responded hastily.
As the car pulled away smoothly, Yvette glanced back to see Vincent following in Albert's vehicle. Once they were moving, Albert abandoned any pretense of staying upright, closing his eyes and settling into a picture of languid contentment.
Sensing her gaze, Albert slowly lifted his eyelids, and their eyes met in an unexpected collision that made Yvette's cheeks flush under his dangerously intense stare.
Before she could look away, Albert's tall frame moved closer, enveloping her completely in his embrace. His chin came to rest against her shoulder, and she could feel his warm, alcohol-scented breath against her skin.
Yvette tensed slightly. "What are you doing?"
"I'm drunk. Let me hold you," Albert murmured lazily, maintaining his shameless act.
Unable to refuse such a request, Yvette asked, "Why did you drink so much? Did something happen?"
In her experience, Albert only drank heavily when troubled, but today he'd gone to a business meeting. And his current demeanor suggested anything but distress.
"Nothing happened," Albert said casually. "Business negotiations sometimes require unavoidable social drinking."
The explanation was laughable—in Luken, anyone wanting to do business with Albert would never dare pressure him to drink. He had no such obligations. If he didn't want to drink, not even divine intervention could force him.
Yvette bit her lip but didn't challenge his obvious lie. If he'd chosen to drink and wasn't upset about anything, she'd let it slide.
"Fine, hold me then," she said softly. "We'll be home soon anyway."
Albert chuckled, a note of triumphant satisfaction in his voice.
When Albert and Yvette arrived home, the house stood empty. Albert checked his watch, quickly calculating the timing. It was just before the children's kindergarten dismissal—the two housekeepers would be walking to pick them up, and Beatrice was likely out shopping for household necessities.
Being Monday, this was the weekly time when the other staff returned to the Valdemar Villa for their meeting. Realizing they had at least half an hour alone, Albert abandoned his drunken pretense the moment they entered, pressing Yvette down onto the living room sofa.
Though his body covered hers, he was careful to distribute his weight so she remained comfortable.
Yvette shifted uncomfortably, unused to such intimate proximity in the family living room. She pushed against his chest. "Get up. There are people in the house—we can't let anyone see us like this."
"Relax, no one's here," Albert said, tightening his hold as if he could absorb her into his very being.
Yvette was about to protest when she glanced at the wall clock and realized Albert had indeed timed their arrival perfectly.
Her expression grew complex as she studied him. "You're drunk enough to know the house is empty?"
"I just know," Albert replied simply.
Yvette huffed softly. "Did you deliberately time this? Did you intentionally drink at that meeting so you could use it as an excuse? Or are you faking being drunk?"
Albert's body went rigid for two seconds before he buried his face deeper against her neck, even nuzzling slightly.
"What would I gain from faking?" he asked, even as he sought her lips with his own.
Caught off guard by his brazenness, Yvette didn't react quickly enough, allowing Albert to steal several kisses. His alcohol-tinged tongue invaded her mouth before she managed to push him away.
"This is exactly why you're faking!" she accused.
"You're saying I'm pretending to be drunk just to kiss you?" Albert asked, his previously closed eyes opening slightly as he lifted his head to look at her.
"Aren't you?" Yvette challenged, steeling herself.
Albert raised his right hand to cup her chin, his rough fingertips tracing the soft skin of her cheek. His eyes held nothing but her reflection, and his intoxicating presence seemed to affect her as well, making her body melt beneath him.
"Of course not," Albert said, raising an eyebrow with a predatory gleam that held no trace of drunkenness. "When I want to kiss you, I don't need to pretend anything."
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